


Mycroft's Not So Lousy Summer

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade - Fandom
Genre: M/M, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Mycroft Holmes has never enjoyed summer because of the ridicule from the ignorant kids in his neighborhood, but he finally finds joy in the season when a certain young man with messy brown hair comes into town to live with his aunt and uncle for the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm back! It's been awhile, and my writing is a little shaky, but I hope you guys like it.

Summer

Most kids my age go months wishing for a universal remote to fast-forward their way to the season, but not me. Why? Well, Summer has never been about having fun but shielding myself from public embarrassment. You see, I'm not exactly the most "popular" person at school, and I have a lot of people that are difficult to get off my back even outside of the classroom. Sometimes they will laugh at me and chase me when I'm riding my bike in the park. When I go to the pool, I am ridiculed for my extremely pale skin, and they will taunt me with names like "snowman" and cherry nipples" (because they are so bright from my white skin). I can't even go out on my porch without the boys across the street calling me out when my underwear peeks out over the rim of my pajama pants when I bend over or when I have bed head in the morning. 

Of course, I'm the only one. My brother suffers from the same tedious mockery, although he seems to be able to withstand a higher capacity of idiocy than me. I wonder how he does it occasionally but then I just assume it has something to do with payback pranks involving chemistry sets or, if he's not feeling it, glue in shampoo bottles.

My brother has a low patience level, but he also is extremely lazy, so most of the time he doesn't even bother to lift a finger against bullies. I, however, wish I could stand up to them. After all, I'm the older one and it's just pitiful to give in to such pointless acts. Of course, that would require more than bravery and strong words because the boys in my neighborhood have muscles and can beat me from here to the moon. I can't come home with a black eye again or my dad will give me another talk about growing a pair and punching them back. My mom usually stays out of stuff like that and just tends to the wounds before making me some tea. She says it's not good to encourage more conflict. Maybe she's right. So I don't go outside much anymore.

So yea, long story short, summer is no picnic for me. However, there is one thing about summer that I quite enjoy- the appearance of a white Camry pulling into the driveway next door and the flash of a familiar mess of brown hair. 

 

~ 2 years ago

"Mycroft, honey, could you take out the trash please?" My mother asked frantically. 

It was the day of my parent's annual "welcome summer" barbecue, and my mom wasn't taking the stress very well. This was the first year that my father would not be home to help out because of work, so she was pretty much on her own to prepare this party for the whole neighborhood. I offered to assist in the setup, but she would passively tell me to go help my brother with his summer homework or work on my model for the summer science fair at the library (another thing I dread every year). 

A large plastic bag sat in the corner of the kitchen and gleamed at me. I stared at it for a awhile in hopes that my mom would yell at me to go upstairs while she took it out herself or made my brother do it, but she wasn't in the mood for my tricks that day.

"Myc, you have to face your demons sometime." 

She meant our neighbors across the street. Although she didn't approve of violence, my mother believed that if I paid no mind to the mean things they said then they would get bored and leave me alone. It sounds simple, but teenage ignorance is a strong force that's had to repel.

"Mycroft Holmes," her voice was stern, "I believe I asked you to do something."

"Yes, mother," I sighed. 

Hesitantly, I reached for the bag and threw it over my shoulder. The portal to the outside world stood before me, but I found it near impossible to step across. 

I spotted my brother out in the yard studying some sort of insect and yelled out to him if he could please take the bag of trash I was holding to the bin at the end of the driveway-he didn't even look up. My eyes scanned the area in search for Billy and Harry Sparks-the two boys who lived in the house parallel to ours- but they were no where in sight. Letting out a large amount of air that I had been holding in, I stepped outside. 

I shuffled to the trash bin and threw the bag in before running back to my brother. 

"It appears you'll live to see another day," he said plainly. 

"Well, I got lucky. It's still early, they're probably still at baseball practice." 

He didn't acknowledge what I said but instead picked up a jar and ushered a cricket inside. He brought it up to his eye level and examined it briefly before setting it down.

"Gryllidae," he said. 

He scribbled the name down in his notebook next to a bunch of other scientific terms in addition to a brief description of the bug that included further classification. 

"You know your teachers are not going to expect you to spill out taxonomy in a 3rd grade science project," I told him. 

"You know most people your age aren't afraid to walk across their own lawn." 

I left him to his entomology. 

-

There were a lot of cracks in the walls of our room. I kept telling my father we had to tend to this issue, but he was never able to find time to go to the hardware store in town. I tried covering them with posters or framed certificates from the various activities my mother involved me in, but that just made me depressed so I spend my time staring into them most of the time. 

I heard my mother shuffling downstairs and glanced at the clock to see how much longer it would be before the doorbell would ring and the whole neighborhood would barge in to ruin my life. 

I could still see Sherlock outside from my window. He had apparently lost interest in his homework and was busy sketching something. Drawing had been something he picked up by chance one day when he got bored at one of my orchestra concerts. He drew me with bow through my head...He was really quite talented, although most of his work was not appropriate to display. I suppose it's his way of compensating for his own problems whatever those may be-he wasn't one for expressing feelings. 

I wish I had talent like his. I had to work for everything I had, but things always came so easily to Sherlock. My mom calls him a child prodigy. My dad just calls him a smart alec but he's proud of him nonetheless. But what I was jealous of most about my younger brother was his ability to not care what people thought. Billy and Harry Sparks are constantly taunting him for his brain and they'd call him names like Einstein or Big Head, but he never blinks an eye at them. My mom tells me he's just not old enough to realize he's being insulted which I think is stupid. If my mom knows my brother at all she'd know he's able to pick out an insult a mile away, and it's not like their mockery is discrete. I just think Sherlock has a gift for blocking out unwanted things that I lack. I've asked him about it, but I go right over his head as well. He's much more interested in his bugs...

I took off my shirt because it was hot and looked at myself in the mirror. The boys in my neighborhood had the right to make fun of my chest-it was paler than a ghost. I had no abs and no chest hair. I was scrawny. I ran my hand over my stomach which bulged a bit. I felt bad because I had been snacking so much recently because I'm home alone a lot. My dad works and my mom goes to activities in town a lot. And Sherlock, I don't really consider company. I get lonely and all I can think about is how much I hate myself. And that's when I eat...my mother hasn't noticed the weight gain yet, but I'm expecting a lecture when my new pants don't fit anymore. 

I used to look at myself in the mirror a lot and not like what I saw. My arms looked like noodles to me and my legs looked really awkward. Nothing about my body was appealing. 

I slipped off my pants and sat down in my underwear in front of the mirror. I stared at the stomach rolls.

"Sexy..." I mumbled. 

I looked down at my arm where I had scratched it on something a few days before. The mark was still red and stung if you touched it. I still wasn't quite sure how I acquired it, but I had nightmares of me giving it to myself. I would wake up screaming. 

"Mycroft!" My mothers voice traveled up the stairwell as she made her way up to my room.

I jumped to my feet and grasped for some clothes. I couldn't let her know I was looking at myself like that again. She was considering taking me to a child psychologist.

"Mycroft! The guest will be here soon!" She peaked her head in the doorway and I quickly covered myself with the nearest thing I could find which was one of Sherlock's jackets which he had left on the floor.

"Sorry, mom, I was just changing. I tripped outside and got grass stains on my trousers," I stuttered, "I'll be down in a minute." 

"Mycroft, honey, are you alright, you seem a little jittery."

"I'm fine, mother." 

"Did you take your anxiety medicine this morning," she asked.

I didn't, but I said I did. It makes her happy when I say I do.

"Good. Thank you for taking the trash out earlier by the way."

"Ya, no problem. I'll be down soon." 

She nodded and closed the door. 

I sighed.

Sherlock had gone inside, and I spotted a few of our neighbors walking out their front doors with the intention of heading over here. I threw on my clothes and dragged myself downstairs.

"Looks like this is going to be another lousy summer," I thought to myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bystander saves Mycroft from a pretty tough situation

The get together was dull as expected. Most of my neighbors are older, and they entertain themselves with small talk that's foreign language to me, so there's not a lot going on between me and the guests- well the adults at least.

My summer adventure began, as usual, with me cowering behind a plant or sitting in the bathroom until someone else had to occupy it. There's three kids in my neighborhood that attend this party every year-the Sparks boys and Jackson Lovewood- all of which go to school with me and make my life hell. A week ago Jackson had threatened to throw me into a mud puddle because he told me the way I had my hair was gay and that dirt was manly. I figured he'd try and strike when I was in my Sunday best, so I spent the duration of the party away from everyone. That is until I heard a knock on the bathroom door for about the hundredth time.

"Taken!" I said in hopes that they'd give up and use the restroom upstairs-it was cleaner anyway. 

"Come on, this door has been closed for twenty minutes. I have to piss," a voice said. 

I sighed. Despite the tone of voice which was sort of whiny and childish, I opened the door for him. 

The person on the other side was, to say the least, gorgeous. He was taller than me so my eye level was only to his lips which were a luscious shade of pink, and his eyes were shaded by a glob of messy brown hair that swooshed when a rush of air caught it. He wasn't wearing anything entirely fancy, but the shirt he was wearing showed off his muscles which were toned but not too big, and I couldn't help but stare at them and imagine touching them. His chin was smooth and fleshly shaven, although he probably didn't have much hair to begin with because he was nearly my age give or take a few months. Oh, everything about him was stunning. I couldn't get myself to blink and miss a second of looking at him.

"What the heck are you doing in there?" 

He noticed I was just standing in the doorway looking guilty. I shuffled a bit not knowing what to say. 

"You ok?" 

"Huh?"

"Look, can I use the toilet, please?"

"Um, ya sure," I stepped outside to let him through, my eyes never unlocking from his. 

I stood there for a moment outside the door, feeling like a pervert, before shamefully sneaking towards the staircase. I made it up one stair before hearing a catcall from behind me.

"Hey look, boys, princess Mycroft finally left her tower," Billy said. 

I froze. 

"What's wrong, Princess? It's still plenty of time until midnight. Stay for awhile and dance," his brother pitched in. 

"You'll insults are vapid and unoriginal," Sherlock appeared from around the corner, not amused by the scene in front of him. 

"Oh, look. It's the talking ass," Jackson laughed.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't a mirror," he responded plainly. 

I tried to hide my grinning.

"I must compliment you on your communication skills, I didn't know an ass could speak. Their brains just aren't sophisticated enough."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"I'm simply comparing your mental capabilities to other things. For instance, your brain is about the size of say..." He looked around, "Well I guess I can't find anything for reference because nothing in this house is that small. I guess we'll just have to use our imaginations, right?" 

"Oh you little....!" Jackson swung at Sherlock's face but he dodged the blow. 

"Pitiful," he mumbled. "I was expecting more from you."

Jackson tried a second time, missing and punching me right in the nose. I fell backwards on the stairs. Lovewood, proud of his accomplishment, ditched Sherlock and pounced on me, pulling my hair and shouting profanity. The other two boys grabbed Sherlock's arm and pulled him towards the back door to the yard. He fought against them, but Sherlock was never known for muscle strength and lost fairly easily. I wondered what exactly they planned to do with him, but I figured he'd find a clever way to wiggle out of their grip so it wasn't my main concern-I had my own problems. 

"Help!" Jackson covered my mouth so nobody would hear me. 

"Shut up. You think you brother's jokes are funny?"

I didn't answer.

"Huh?!" He pulled at my hair. "You think that was funny?!" 

My mind raced as I tried to come up with a way to escape and run to the party where I could be shielded by a crowd of adults. I scanned my surroundings-nothing. 

"You two think you're such hot stuff right? Well, ain't that the funniest shit I'd ever heard. You're losers, ya got that?" 

"Ain't isn't a word," I managed to get his hand off of my mouth.

"WHAT?"

"Ain't isn't a word. I believe you meant, "isn't that the funniest thing I've (not I'd) ever heard."

"Do you think this is the time to be smart?"

"I'm not trying to insult you, I just thought..."

"Exactly. Don't think."

"But."

"You won't need that big brain of yours anymore once I knock it right out of your skull!" he growled. 

"What's going on here?"

Jackson still had his left hand clenched tightly around the collar of my shirt, but he turned his head towards the source of the voice. It was the boy I had seen early. He was standing behind Lovewood with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. 

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm not fond of swearing," he said calmly. "It's filthy."

"Pff, is this a joke?" Lovewood looked towards me. "Is this your boyfriend or something?"

"I'm just a bystander," the boy said, "and I do not take kindly to bullies."

"What are you going to do? Politely ask me to leave? Ha."

" I think you should be on your way."

"No way. I'm not finished here."

I prepared myself for another hit, but something happened that I wasn't expecting. The boy grasped Jackson's arm and pulled him up near him in a choking position with his arm wrapped around Lovewood's neck. 

"Dude, let go!" Jackson struggled. 

"You are a guest in this house. Show some respect," he freed Jackson who merely stared blankly at him before walking away. 

I was in shock. What had just happened?

"Here," the boy held out his hand to help me back up to my feet. "You alright?"

"Huh,um, ya I guess so. Thank you."

"Gregory," he said.

"What?"

"My name's Gregory." 

"Oh...Mycroft."

Suddenly Sherlock walked back in through the back door. 

"Are you ok?" I smiled at Greg to show my thanks once more and rushed over to my brother. 

"People are so easy to manipulate," was all he said.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day I decided to ride my bike down to the park. My mother was at the grocery and Sherlock was at the library, and I figured fresh air would help me clear my head. A familiar uneasiness took over my body as I pedaled out of the driveway. I could see the Sparks boys in their yard playing basketball with the new ball their mom bought them to keep them occupied. They didn't seem pleased when I passed, but at the same time they didn't see the reason to pause their game for the likes of me. Normally curiosity would overcome my better judgment, but I wasn't in the mood for any unnecessary conflict so I accepted my strike of luck without further question. 

I thought about the day before. The boy that had rescued me from getting my facial structures rearranged, I had come to find out, would be living in the house next door to me for the remainder of the summer. His parents were filing for divorce, and they found it easier on everyone to have Greg stay with his aunt and uncle, although the boy viewed it as an attack on his pride. After the party I had spotted him on the front porch scribbling something on a piece of paper. It was hard to tell exactly what it was from my window, but it looked like a letter. 

He never once looked up at me while he was writing, but he also didn't seem concerned with anything else that was around him either. I wondered who he was writing to. A friend, girlfriend perhaps.

Of course I had no right to wonder. I had no right to get myself involved. That's part of the reason I had decided to go out because my head was so jumbled with "what ifs." I had never had such an interest in anyone I had met, so by nature I was confused. I was never good with distinguishing feelings and often mistook kindness as joking or wanting something from me. But this boy seemed different, and there was something about him that made me question why he had helped me. And questions are dangerous things. I felt like my brain was calculating emotions and it was suffering a malfunction because I found myself in a state of feeling nothing at all. I felt empty and yet so light and free. I felt relaxed which was odd for me. 

While unfamiliar and stimulating, I hesitated from taking too much enjoyment in this new feeling. In fact, the satisfaction was cut short anyway by Jackson Lovewood who pulled in front of me on his scooter by the bike rack upon my arrival at the park. 

"Oh, look, if it isn't the damsel in distress. Where's your boyfriend?"

"Get out of my way, Jackson."

"Why? You in a hurry to get somewhere? Got a hot date with wonder boy?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Of course not. Besides, you'd be wasting your time. He's not swinging that way."

I narrowed my eyes and growled, "Screw you."

"No thank you."

"Jerk!" I stepped forward and prepared to smack him across the face.

"Go suck a dick," he snatched me by the arm.

The next thing I knew I was on the ground brushing dirt and grass off my new jeans. I would've cried, but I couldn't seem to. I didn't know if that was because I was more mature than that or because I was in a state of shock and disbelief. Not disbelief that he had said those things but that I had tried to defend myself. I couldn't say it was a success, but it was a start. And I was proud of my progress.

-

Blood trickled down the back of my leg from a nasty cut caused by me falling on a sharp rock. It wasn't deep but it was long and bled a lot more than it should've. A mother who had been playing catch with her son set the ball down for a minute to rush to my aid. I didn't weigh a whole lot so she was able to carry me to the restroom where I could cleanse my wound of dirt. Fortunately she was a nurse and kept some first aid items in her purse. She wrapped my leg once it was clean and helped me to my feet. 

"Thank you," I said.

"How did this happen?"

"It's nothing. I just tripped."

I could tell she didn't believe me, but she didn't venture further. Instead she offered to drive me home. 

-

"Mycroft, huh?" 

"Ya, old family name I guess..."

The woman's car was nothing fancy, but I didn't need to ride home in luxury. I gladly climbed into the backseat, wincing a bit from the pain in my leg, and sat next to the woman's son who was disappointed in their early departure. 

"Mom, some boys just invited me to play ball with them," he had whined but his mother silenced him.

"Oh shush John. You can play ball any day." 

The boy frowned. 

"Everyone buckled up?"

There was a mumble of response from both of us.

"Alright," she started the car.

The boy looked about my brother's age, although he could've been a year or two older. It was hard to tell because he was short and hadn't let go of his childhood predilections. Of course that could've been my own bias given how my brother was nearing 9 but was gifted with the brain of a mad scientist. It was also just as possible that John was an example of normal behavior and Sherlock and I were outliers. The second option was more highly probable. 

"You live around here?" John asked me.

I nodded.

"You got any siblings?"

"A brother."

"What's his name?"

"Sherlock."

"That's a weird name. You two are weird."

"John!" His mother scolded and he fell silent. 

The neighborhood oddly appeared more cheerful once Mrs. Watson turned onto my street. I never felt so proud to be going home.

"Is this it?" she pulled up in front of my house where Sherlock and my mother were just heading up our front steps. 

"Mycroft, honey? Are you alright?" She handed some grocery bags to my brother and rushed over to assist Mrs. Watson in helping me out of the car. "What happened?"

"He took a nasty fall. I helped clean him up and brought him back home. I hope you don't mind," Mrs. Watson said.

"Thank you," my mom said, "Um.."

"Barbara."

"Judy."

"Pleasure," they smiled at one another and my mother invited her in for coffee.

"Sparks?" Sherlock walked over.

"Lovewood."

"Are you Sherlock?" John stepped in front of me.

"This is John," I told him. 

He paid us no mind and walked off somewhere. 

Suddenly I caught side of Gregory on his way to a scooter that was lying at the end of the drive. 

"Hey!" The word came out of my mouth quicker than I intended and shockingly I found myself wobbling over to greet him.

"Oh, Mycroft, right?"

"Yea.Where you headed?"

"To the library. I got this dumb study group I have to go to. I need help with a summer course I started last week."

"Oh, what subject?"

"Chemistry, but...woah what the hell happened to you?"

"Long story..." I avoided eye contact for a moment.

"Those boys still picking on you?"

"It's nothing, I took care of it...hey, if you want, I could help you out. I took chem last year."

"Um sure. But I really gotta get going to this meeting cause I'm already on the list for today..."

"Oh ya sure. Of course. But ya, if you ever need help I'm right next door."

He nodded.

"You sure you're ok? You should probably go lie down or something. It looks pretty bad."

"It's just a cut," and to be honest, I had nearly forgotten about it because I was lost staring at the other boys shoulders which were exposed from his tank top. "Thanks for the concern. I appreciate it."

"Uh huh. Well see ya."

"Ya bye!" I smiled.

I felt like I was floating.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is short, but I'm so tired all the time and I cannot think. I would've done something earlier but I was binge watching OITNB all weekend.

"So is he your boyfriend now?" the voice caught me off guard as I slid in through the door. 

"Gosh, Sherlock, you scared me."

"He's kinda old for you."

"No he's not. He's just mature."

"Whatever."

He sneaked off somewhere and didn't say anything else to me for the remainder of the day. Meanwhile I sat in my room thinking about Greg. It was so weird the way I felt around him-nothing that I had ever felt like before. The whole thing was hard to put into words. For one thing, he saved me from getting my nose pushed into my head; second, that gave me the confidence to stand up to my bully. But other than that, I felt safe as well as accepting of who I was for the first time in my life. There was no judgement, and, although I barely spoke to him, it appeared as though he understood me more than I ever could understand myself. I didn't know what a crush was back then, but, looking back, I suppose that's exactly what it was- a pathetic schoolboy crush. That night I dreamed about Greg making weekly visits to my room for aid in his studies, and I couldn't help but wake up smiling every time. 

__________ 

A week later my fantasies came true when I was sitting in my room reading, and Greg suddenly walked in through my bedroom door. 

"Your brother just said to come up."

My face immediately lit up, and I asked what gave me the pleasure of his company even though it was obvious.

"Um, you said that you could maybe tutor me, and I just thought...I didn't mean to intrude. I can come back some other time."

I've never said no faster in my entire life. I was ecstatic that I'd be able to spend more time with him because learning more about him was at the top of my list. He settled himself down on the edge of my bed which sent a shiver up my spine-He was so close to me. He positioned himself with his book in his lap and licked his finger before turning the page so it wouldn't stick. 

"Ok, so this combined gas law thing...What's the difference between this and the Ideal Gas Law?" he opened his textbook. 

"The Ideal Gas Law only has one set of circumstances whereas the Combined Law has a before and after situation. See I'll show you..."

I was a little disappointed that he jumped immediately into academics, but I managed to weave in a few questions of my own. I felt awkward, but Gregory didn't seem to find the sudden outburst as abnormal. 

"So, what brings you down here for the summer?" I bit my lip. 

"My parents need a break to figure some things out."

"Oh, I'm sorry...."

Stupid. Stupid. 

"It's ok. To be honest, I needed a break from home life too. Too much shouting, and the kids from school are always super loud when they have parties."

"Parties?"

"Ya, I never went. Parties aren't really my thing."

"Really?" the thought was hard to sink in, "I would've thought you'd be the star of parties."

"What makes you think that?" 

"It's just...you know..." the hair that looks so soft I just want to stroke it all day long, the physique that can make a line of teenagers faint, the kindness, the outgoing "don't fuck with me" attitude....shit "Nevermind. So, gas laws..."

I showed him the comparison between the two laws and wanted to smack myself in the face for the duration of the study session. I never was one for social interaction. 

"You alright, dude?" he finally noticed.


End file.
